


The Sweetest Denial

by shadowsong26



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Clovis For The Drama(tm), F/M, Padme/Clovis as a background pairing, Pining, all of the pining, also featuring brief appearances from Obi-Wan and Threepio, in which padme has approximately 5 percent more impulse control than anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsong26/pseuds/shadowsong26
Summary: When Anakin Skywalker walks back into Padme’s life, ten years after they met as children, she can’t deny that there’s an attraction there, a connection. Their lives are very different now--theyare very different now--but even so it doesn’t take her long to realize she’s fallen for him, hard.There’s just one problem.Padme’s already married to someone else.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 58
Kudos: 82
Collections: 2020 Star Wars Summer Fic Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enmudecer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmudecer/gifts).



> Written for the Summer Fic Exchange, for [enmudecer.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmudecer) Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title comes from [this song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOpzPQTeJi4)

To say that Padme was less than thrilled with the idea of being assigned an extra pair of bodyguards--even Jedi, even Jedi she  _ knew-- _ was an understatement of massive proportions.

And it wasn’t because she wasn’t taking the situation seriously, whatever Captain Typho might think. Especially not after Corde-- _ especially  _ not after what had happened to Corde.

The trouble, really, came from two different directions. First, even Jedi would be strangers, would be intruding on a system that ran very smoothly, even if it wasn’t perfect. And even if she had faith that her handmaidens and Typho would adapt quickly to the situation, that was still probably at least a few hours where her Jedi protectors would be underfoot, doing more harm than good.

And second…

Yes, she was in danger. Yes, that danger had come very,  _ very _ close-- _ too _ close--on the landing platform.

But so were a lot of people, a lot of systems. So was the entire  _ Republic, _ if Count Dooku and his Separatist movement got their way. The Jedi were few, and while Anakin had been a child when she’d met, she remembered Obi-Wan Kenobi as skilled and powerful enough that he would probably be  _ much _ more useful elsewhere. Not babysitting her, and possibly accidentally tripping up her own security.

This wasn’t what she wanted. Not at  _ all _ what she wanted.

But in the end, she’d been overruled, and as much as she hated the idea...well, after four drafts of a letter to Corde’s parents…

She’d given in. She wasn’t  _ happy _ about it, but she’d given in.

“At least the Chancellor and the Council are taking this threat seriously,” Rush pointed out, when she finished updating him on these latest developments.

Padme couldn’t see much of the background, but she guessed he was at his desk on Scipio. He’d been there for the past few days, and was supposed to stay for meetings through the end of the week.

He’d been the one to call her, which had left her feeling oddly guilty. True, she’d had a great deal to do in the hours since the attack, but letting her husband know she was still alive probably  _ should _ have been a higher priority.

She’d do better next time. Well, hopefully, there wouldn’t  _ be _ a next time, but she had a feeling this crisis was far from over.

“I know,” she said. “And I  _ am _ grateful, but…”

“But,” he agreed. “I understand, dearest.” He paused for a moment. “Do you want me to come stay with you?”

She shook her head. “What the Chancellor asked you to do is important, and I don’t think we should let our enemies think we’ve been rattled.”

He laughed a little. “Ah, no, of course not. My brave Queen.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. It was moments like this that she remembered  _ why _ she’d agreed to marry Rush Clovis in the first place. Some of it had been politics, yes--or at least politics had thrown them together, and a personal connection between the Banking Clan and the Loyalist Committee had seemed like a smart move to make. Two years hadn’t changed that--had, in fact, only proven the point, more than once.

But it was also that he  _ loved _ her. She could see it in his eyes, even in the hologram. He was kind, and charming, and said such nice things that she was content with him. Happy, even.

He was a good man, and he loved her. It was a good marriage.

Something beeped in the background on Rush’s end. “...ah, I actually have to sign off. That is, unless you’ve changed your mind about me coming…?”

She shook her head. “No, take your meetings, save the Republic’s finances. I’ll deal with the threat on this end.”

“I know you will, dearest,” he said, and blew her a kiss. “I love you. Call me as soon as you know anything else.”

“I will,” she replied, returning the gesture. “Be safe, I’ll talk to you soon.”

He smiled, and cut the connection.

She smiled fondly at the afterimage, then sighed.

_ Well, at least I have a husband who loves me, _ she thought, then pulled her datapad over to make another stab at her letter to Corde’s parents.  _ Although...although if it  _ had _ been me on that platform… _

She shook her head. Better not to borrow trouble, or focus on might-have-beens. She had assassins to evade and laws to pass.

Before she could make much headway, her commlink beeped; voice only, on the private frequency she and her handmaidens used.

She accepted the call. “Dorme, everything all right?”

“Yes, milady,” she said. “They’re here, the Jedi. On the lift now.”

“Right,” she said, and shut down her datapad. “I’ll be right there.”

* * *

But the moment she actually  _ saw  _ Anakin again, for the first time in ten years, things got...complicated.

He was not at  _ all _ the child she remembered.

He was tall, taller than Obi-Wan now, with dark golden hair cut short; his cloak looked a little too big for him, like he still had some filling out to do, some muscle to build, and he was tense at his Master’s side, but he smiled when he saw her and--

Her heartbeat picked up a bit, more than it ever had with Clovis, even when she met him before the priest; more than it even had with Sabe, when they’d tried to see if  _ that _ was the kind of love they shared.

Her mind drifted to the pendant he had made her all those years ago, tucked away in one of her jewelry boxes, the one she carried everywhere, no matter which residence she was in or which gowns she was bringing.

_ I made this for you. To remember me by. _

_ I don’t need this to remember you. _

With a stab of guilt, she realized she was probably staring, which was not only rude, but also--

_ Get it together, _ she told herself.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan spoke, neatly defusing the tension and getting this meeting back on track.

“It’s a great pleasure to see you again, milady, although I do wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“As do we all, I’m sure,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “I’m still not entirely sure your presence here is necessary, but it  _ is _ good to see you again.”

“I’m sure the Council have their reasons,” he said.

When he didn’t add anything else, there was no help for it--without further distracting small talk, there was only so long she could avoid acknowledging his apprentice.

His apprentice who had grown into one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen.

“Ani,” she said. “You’ve...my goodness, you’ve grown.”

“So have you,” he said. “Grown more beautiful. For a Senator, I mean.”

Obi-Wan shot him a look, and he flushed and stared down at the floor.

It was sweet, and awkward, and while she bit her cheek to keep from giggling, she couldn’t quite hide her smile.

“Oh, Ani. You'll always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine.”

But even as she said it...for all that his initial sweet awkwardness  _ had  _ made him seem younger, more like that earnest child; for all it had cut through the spell cast by seeing him all grown up, the words felt like a lie as soon as she said them.

Still, it was enough to kill the moment, and she, Obi-Wan, and Typho quickly turned the conversation back to the crisis at hand.

At least until Anakin and Obi-Wan started bickering over tactics, and Padme decided it was probably in her best interests to leave them to it.

She could do this, she decided, as she and Dorme headed back into her private office. It was just--just the memory of everything they’d gone through together ten years ago, coupled with a purely physical response to how  _ beautiful _ he’d grown over the past ten years. It wouldn’t be the hardest thing she’d had to lock away and compartmentalize over the course of her career.

_ Besides, _ she thought.  _ Surely it won’t be  _ too _ long before everything gets straightened out and they can move on to their next assignment. A few days, maybe a week, and he’ll be out of my life again, and all of this will fade. I can put up with these...feelings...for that long. It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. _

With an astounding act of willpower, she did  _ not _ go into her jewelry box to dig out the jappor pendant. She was proud of herself for that.

_ See? Easy. _

A few days of Anakin’s intensity at her side, the warmth in those summer-blue eyes…

She could handle that. And everything would be  _ fine. _


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, all of _that_ went out the window with the second attack--venomous centipedes in her _bed;_ and Padme was pretty damn sure she’d be having nightmares about _those_ for days.

 _At least Rush listened to me,_ she thought. _At least he stayed away._ The last thing she wanted was for anyone _else_ she cared about to end up as collateral damage.

But, while no one other than the hired assassin herself had been hurt (thank every known deity in the universe), another attack meant _another_ change in security arrangements.

Meant _leaving Coruscant,_ her work against the Military Creation Act, not to mention half a dozen _other_ bills she had a stake in, put on hold for the time being.

Meant going home, to Naboo; to Varykino in the lake country.

With Anakin.

Alone.

“Maybe I should meet you there,” Rush had said, when she’d called to give him an update--true, even with all the layers of security Artoo could place on the call, plus everything on the Banking Clan’s end, it was _still_ a risk to talk about her plans so openly, but Padme had to let her husband know she’d be out of contact for a few days.

“No,” she’d said. “That might...that might give everything away. I’m sorry.”

He’d sighed. “No, of course, you’re right,” he said. “I just...don’t like the idea of you facing this alone and isolated like that.”

“I won’t be alone,” she’d said, then winced internally, praying he wouldn’t--wouldn’t read anything into what she’d said. Praying she hadn’t accidentally said more than she’d meant. “I mean, besides my Jedi protector, I’ll have Artoo, and some of my handmaidens. I’ll be fine. This is just a precaution, to throw them off the trail while Master Kenobi investigates.”

If Rush _had_ heard anything that might make him jealous--not that there was any reason for him to be; nothing had happened except a few feelings and _nothing would_ \--it didn’t show on his face. Not that she could see on a holocall, at least.

“That’s true enough,” he’d agreed. “There’s very little that can get past Artoo. And I suppose you _are_ still my very brave Queen. If sometimes a little _too_ brave.” He’d given her a wry smile, before continuing on, a little more seriously. “I worry, dearest, you know that.”

“I’ll be fine,” she’d promised. “And as soon as Master Kenobi gets to the bottom of this, I’ll be back to work on Coruscant. And everything will go back to normal.”

“Yes,” he’d said. “Yes, of course it will. Be safe, dearest, and I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes,” she’d said, and smiled, and shut off the commlink with a sigh before getting back to her packing.

And now, three days later, she was very, _very_ grateful that she’d been able to talk Rush into staying where he was.

Not that anything had happened--or _would_ happen--but the longer she spent with Anakin, the stronger this...this thing between them became. Like an electric current, building up power for something...something impossible to predict.

The flight home had been bad enough; but at least they’d been packed in with dozens of other refugees, so it was easy to keep her distance. And in Theed, and with her family…

Sola had given her some odd looks, almost as if she could feel that current herself, but thankfully said nothing.

And then they’d gotten _here,_ to Varykino, and she was pretty sure she would have done something unforgivable by now, if this hadn’t been where she and Rush had come for their honeymoon two years before.

Even surrounded by all those tiny, intangible traces of her husband’s presence, she’d come within a hair’s breadth of kissing Anakin on the terrace when they’d arrived. She’d come even _closer_ when they’d gone on a picnic in the shaak meadow, which had really been a _stupid_ idea on her part, but it was such a lovely place and he’d had such a lovely smile when he’d suggested it…

It was getting harder and harder to resist. Spending time with Anakin, _talking_ with him, was intoxicating. He was smart, and knowledgeable, and even when he disagreed or teased her--like when they briefly talked politics--there was still that sense of shining good humor, and he never tried to pretend anything to impress or flatter her, the way so many people who tried to flirt with her in the past had.

Not that she and Anakin were flirting, of course.

And not that Rush had ever talked down to her in quite that way, either. He _listened_ to her, he valued her opinion and didn’t come from a culture or espouse any ideals that said a woman should give up her career when she married.

But she did have _some_ experience with it.

And if there was a faint fluttering in her stomach, when she and Anakin had dinner and he _had_ gone out of his way to impress and tease her with the shuura fruit…

Just because she’d never felt anything like that with Rush didn’t mean her marriage wasn’t good. Wasn’t _important._ This would pass, in a few days. She just had to hold on to that.

And try to forget the way her knees went weak when Anakin gave her that little crooked grin.

* * *

Padme had known, from the moment their plans had been made, that she was playing with fire here.

But it wasn’t until that third night, in the sitting room, when Anakin sat on the couch next to her and poured out his heart, that she realized exactly how badly she risked getting burned.

It wasn’t until then that it really hit her that she wasn’t the _only_ one who would get hurt by this.

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “From the moment I met you, all those years ago, a day hasn't gone by when I haven't thought of you. And now that I'm close to you again, I--please, just...just tell me this isn’t all in my head. If you’re suffering as much as I am, _please…”_

She couldn’t look at him. She felt a sick weight in the pit of her stomach.

“I…” she started, then trailed off. What _could_ she say? All that burning passion, that love, that _pain_ in his eyes…

Whatever she said now, she was going to break his heart, and she hated herself for it.

“Padme,” he started again.

“Anakin--Anakin stop,” she said. “What you’re--what you’re saying is impossible, I never meant to...I _never_ meant to let on that--to give you the...the wrong idea.”

He froze. “Oh,” he said. “So...so you don’t...you don’t…”

“I’m _married,_ Anakin,” she said.

“You’re...what?” He sounded confused now, and oh, hells, had he not _known?_ Was that not in whatever briefing he and Obi-Wan had been given, or had he just...not paid attention? True, she’d never said anything, never mentioned Rush, but…

_Oh, hells._

“I’m married,” she repeated. “I have been for two years.”

“Oh,” he said again, after another beat of stunned silence. “I didn’t-- _oh.”_ The fire cast shadows across his face, but even that couldn’t hide how devastated, how hurt he was.

_I should have said something sooner. I shouldn’t have assumed he knew. I shouldn’t have…_

A part of her knew that the best thing, the _kindest_ thing, for both of them, would be to leave it at that. But she couldn’t--she _couldn’t_ do that. She had to give him _something._ Say _something,_ to make him...to make that pain in his eyes fade, if only just a little.

“I’m so sorry, Ani,” she said. “I _do_ care for you, and I always will. But...but my marriage is monogamous, and my husband is a good man, and he loves me. I won’t hurt him this way.”

 _Maybe...maybe if it weren’t for Rush...maybe we’d be having a different conversation._

Or maybe not--his commitment to the Order, and her work in the Senate, were at _least_ as important as her marriage vows, not to mention the conflict of interest involved in all of this--on the one hand, he was her bodyguard; on the other hand, the Order answered to the Senate, and she was a Senator. A small, rational part of her mind pointed out that her marriage wasn’t the _only_ reason this--whatever this was was a bad idea.

But, on the other hand, there was something about betraying a living, breathing _person_ that felt different from ruining their careers and betraying institutions; from abstract concepts of propriety and conflicts of interest. Felt much more important, even if, objectively, it probably wasn’t.

“I understand,” Anakin said woodenly, then stood up, and bowed, and turned to go.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

He nodded, then hesitated. “Do...you said your husband loves you. Do...do you love _him?”_

 _No,_ she wanted to say, and maybe it had taken her two years and meeting Anakin again to realize it, but…

She _liked_ Rush. She wouldn’t have married him if she didn’t at least _like_ him, politics be damned.

But love?

She was starting to realize that _that_ wasn’t there. And probably never would be.

But it didn’t matter. Whatever she felt for Anakin, whatever she was starting to realize she _didn’t_ feel for Rush...she just couldn’t do it.

Even if a part of her had always wanted to love her spouse, even before she’d had a specific partner in mind--had wanted to truly, _deeply_ love them, like the heroines in the cheap novels she definitely didn’t read whenever she had time...her marriage was a good one. She had a good husband, a man who loved her. Hurting him wasn’t worth--wasn’t worth feeding this electric current, seeing what it might light up, and indulging her own selfish desires.

She sighed. “Anakin…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and bowed. “I overstepped again. I won’t--it won’t happen again, I promise.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m...you know where to find me if you need me. Milady.”

He sketched a bow and fled, and she buried her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry for hurting you.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was both easier and harder for Padme to stay the course, as events overtook them--Anakin’s dreams, the hollow hell in his eyes on Tatooine, Obi-Wan’s message--

Their capture.

_ I don’t think even I can talk our way out of this one. As for fighting... _

The odds were stacked against them--they were both unarmed; probably Obi-Wan was, too, if he was out there, still alive; and even if she had hairpins she could use to get out of her chains, there was still an arena full of hostile Geonosians to fight through.

She held her breath, almost, in the chariot as they waited to enter the arena. She looked up at him, sideways, through her lashes. His back was ramrod straight, and his eyes were closed, and for a moment, she almost reached out; almost made a confession of her own; almost kissed him.

_ We’re about to die anyway, _ part of her said.  _ No one gets hurt, and we have this. We have just a moment. No one would ever know. _

_...except me.  _ I _ would know. _

She let the moment pass.

He opened his eyes.

“Stay close to me,” he said softly. “If you can. I’ll do everything in my power to get you out of this alive, milady.”

“I know you will,” she said. She reached out, as much as her binders would permit, and stopped just short of taking his hand.

He blinked, and looked down at her. She looked away, and withdrew.

“Be careful,” she said.

She could almost hear the sad, crooked little smile in his voice. “Don’t worry about me. Just stay close. I’ll figure something out.”

The doors slid open before she could reply, and the chariot began to move.

She took a breath, and let it out slowly.

The odds weren’t any better, but something about Anakin’s promises gave her a little faith.

She shifted her hands as much as she could in the binders, the better to pull out her hairpin when the time came, and steeled herself for what was to come.

* * *

When it was over, Padme tracked Anakin down at the field hospital, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Her first priority should have been to contact Rush, or Dorme and Typho, or Bail, or…

But after what she’d seen on the landing platform, she couldn’t stay away.

He was still conscious, though she wasn’t sure how--an IV going into his...his remaining arm meant painkillers, and maybe a proper sedative, too.

He blinked at her, and smiled, and sat up a little straighter.

“Don’t--” she started, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Ani…”

“S’not as bad as it looks,” he tried, which was  _ ridiculous, _ because his  _ arm was gone, _ and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

“I thought you said you were going to be careful,” she said instead.

“Pretty sure you said that, not me,” he said. “...thank you, for coming. It’s...it’s nice to see you.”

She sat down next to the bed; resisted the urge to take his remaining hand--it wasn’t hers to take, and besides, she might dislodge the IV. “I told you, I do care for you, and I always will, I just…”

“I know,” he said, his smile slipping a little. “I get it. And I won’t...I won’t make things weird. If we-- _ when _ we see each other again. I promise. ...I promise I’ll try, anyway..”

“Me, too,” she said. If they could just  _ avoid  _ one another, at least for a little while, that would be so much easier, but with everything that had just happened…

She had a feeling that she and Anakin Skywalker would be seeing a  _ lot _ of each other over the next few months. Until this new war was over.

But she was a Senator, and he was a Jedi. She would bet anything that being professional about this was far from the hardest thing  _ either _ of them had done for the sake of their duty to the Republic.

“I should let you get some rest, then,” she said. “I just...wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I will be.”

“Good,” she said, and smiled, even though it hurt, and stood up to leave.

“Padme,” he started.

She stopped, and met his eyes for another moment; summer-blue and beautiful and full of all the things he couldn’t say.

“...take care of yourself,” he said instead. “Senator.”

“You too,” she replied. “Padawan Skywalker.”


	4. Chapter 4

Of course, remaining strictly professional when they had to work together proved to be harder than Padme had thought.

That mess with Jabba the Hutt’s son had been hard enough, and she and Anakin hadn’t even been in the same room for that one. They hadn’t even been on the same _planet._

On the other hand, he had an apprentice of his own by then, and between the duty he owed Ahsoka Tano and what the war was asking of each of them, Padme still held out hope that they would be distracted enough from one another to let this impossible passion cool and fade.

No sooner had she made herself yet _another_ promise, and shored up her resolve as best she could, that she went on a secret, last-minute mission into contested space based on a source from inside the TechnoUnion. Asking specifically for _her_ to come negotiate a possible change in allegiance.

Padme had never liked the idea of personality politics. It seemed antithetical to the principles of democracy that Naboo held so dear, but she’d learned over the years that it mattered a _lot_ in some places. And the TechnoUnion, much like the Banking Clan--whose current position probably owed a lot to her marriage to Rush--was one of them.

So, when she got word that someone over there was willing to talk-- _really_ talk--she couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

If _only_ it hadn’t been a trap.

As soon as she dropped out of hyperspace, the looming, smoking bulk of the _Malevolence_ filled her front viewscreen, and she swore.

_Not good, not good._

She caught sight of a handful of Republic fighters and what looked like a cruiser in pursuit--which, for her, was more bad news than good. They were too far away to come to her rescue, but just close enough to spot her and risk trying anyway.

Unless she moved _fast._

She scrambled to put escape coordinates into the navicomputer--her ship _was_ armed; she’d had it modified as a precaution even before the war started, but she didn’t stand a chance against a capital ship, even a crippled one, and she knew it.

The warship’s tractor beam was much faster.

_Okay. Okay, I can handle this. As long as I can figure out some way off that thing before it’s completely destroyed--_

She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her comm crackled to life and the situation went from bad to worse.

“Senator.” Anakin’s face, full of fear, appeared above her console, and her heart skipped a beat.

She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “General Skywalker.”

“Senator, what are you _doing_ here?”

“I was _supposed_ to be meeting with--it doesn’t matter now,” she said. “I’m caught in a tractor beam, I can’t get free.”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, we’ll just--”

“You _will not,”_ she said. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself. If you’ve brought this much firepower against that dreadnought--”

“P-- _Senator--”_

“I _mean_ it, General,” she said; she met his eyes, hoping he could see there what she couldn’t say out loud-- _remember what we promised, please,_ please, _be professional about this…_

His jaw tightened, and he didn’t answer right away.

“General Skywalker--”

Her comm cut off.

“Kriffing _hells!”_

“Oh, dear,” Threepio muttered behind her, as the last scrap of empty space disappeared from her viewscreen, leaving only the dying capital ship in sight. “We’re doomed.”

“Not just yet, Threepio,” she said, as much to convince herself as him. “Just hold tight, and follow my lead.”

“Yes, Mistress Padme,” he said, resignedly, and left it at that.

* * *

Somehow, Padme wasn’t surprised that Anakin hadn’t listened; she wasn't surprised to hear his voice over the ship's internal comm system.

And, on the one hand, she was upset. This wasn’t what they’d agreed, and the priority _should_ have been the destruction of this ship, along with--potentially--General Grievous himself.

On the other hand...well, she couldn’t exactly deny that she was quickly running out of options and escape routes and the idea of living to fight another day had a _lot_ of appeal.

He had Obi-Wan with him, at least, which made her feel a little bit better. Surely, _Obi-Wan_ wouldn’t have come here and signed off on this plan if Anakin’s feelings for her were the only thing at stake.

Right?

“I’m not saying I’m not...I’m not glad to hear your voice, but…”

“I know, I know, but yell at me later,” he said. “We don’t have much time, I’m guessing they’ll figure out we’re using this system before too long. But we have a plan to get you out.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’ll meet in the center of the ship,” he said, and sketched out a quick outline of the route, the internal shuttle system--it would work.

She relaxed a little, slumping against the wall in relief. “Right,” she said. “Center of the ship, soon as I can get there. General Skywalker--”

“Yeah?”

“...thank you.”

The comms were voice-only, so she couldn’t actually _see_ his face, but she pictured him smiling.

And if she smiled a little herself, at that mental image--well, no one was here to see. And even if they could, no one could fault her for _smiling,_ because a kind man, a _friend,_ was coming to her rescue.

“See you soon, Senator,” he said, and the line went dead.

She took a moment to get her bearings, then checked her gun and headed for the center of the ship as fast as she could.

* * *

Everything went well, at first. Sure, she traded shots back and forth with battle droids, but she and Threepio made it to the center of the ship intact.

And when Padme saw Anakin waiting for her, hopping from train to train, closer and closer until he was just one track away, she almost started to relax.

 _Just_ in time for a Super Battle Droid she’d lost track of to shoot out the track ahead of her.

“Kriff!” she yelped, scrambling to the back of her car. But the train was going so quickly, the gap was meters away; even if she ran all the way to the back of this entire _train_ it wouldn’t be enough and it was a long, _long_ way down.

“Jump!” Anakin yelled.

She measured the distance between her train and his, feeling the seconds rush by as she got closer and closer to the gap.

There weren’t any other options, but it was a long way down, and she’d _never make it--_

“I’ll catch you!” he promised.

\--unless she trusted him to help.

And...and whatever else she might say or feel about Anakin Skywalker, he was a powerful Jedi, one who had saved her life multiple times. Placing it in his hands once again was almost as easy as breathing.

She nodded, backed up a few steps to get a running start, and leapt.

It was the strangest feeling, like an invisible hand, too large to be Human, gripping her around the waist and pulling her gently towards the Jedi General. Her feet touched the cart next to him, and the hand let go; she staggered a little bit, not quite expecting the sudden shift in balance, and he caught her.

His hands were warm; her heart was pounding in her ears--or maybe it was his--or maybe both; and for a long moment they stood there, with him holding her under cover of helping her find her balance, and her trying very, very hard to think of Rush and the personal and political consequences at stake here, and _not_ the way his mouth looked so soft and achingly close; _not_ the difference in grip between his mech hand and his flesh hand; _not--_

She took a breath, and forced herself to look away. “Thank you, General,” she said.

He let go, and if his hands lingered just a split second longer than they needed to…she didn’t notice. She couldn’t afford to notice.

“Senator,” he said, softly, as they passed into a tunnel, the flickering guidelights casting eerie shadows across his face.

Almost like the fire, that night at Varykino, when he’d told her he loved her, and she’d come _so close_ to crossing a line.

She didn’t want to have the discussion--argument--whatever. But, as relieved--as _grateful--_ as she was that he’d saved her, part of her was still worried that him coming here was…

“This can’t happen again,” she said. “You...you and I, we have...we have our commitments elsewhere. You _can’t…”_

“I know,” he said. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It won’t happen again. I promise. I’ll...I’ll be professional. Even if it means…” His voice broke.

“It won’t,” she promised, putting her hand on his. “I’ll be more careful next time. I promise.”

When he didn’t pull away--when _she_ couldn’t bring herself to pull away, either…

“...maybe we should just...try to avoid each other for a while,” she said. “As much as possible.”

He blinked rapidly, but nodded. “That’s...that’s probably for the best, isn’t it.”

She bowed her head, and, with effort, finally withdrew her hand, forcing herself to forget how _natural_ it had felt there, how much nicer it would have been if she’d let their fingers entwine...

Abruptly, Anakin’s comm crackled to life, cutting through the tension in the air. “I’m going after Threepio,” Obi-Wan’s said. “I’ll meet you two at the exfil point.”

Anakin shook himself, and hit a hidden button on his mech hand. “Copy that, Obi-Wan. We’re on our way.”

“You know the way out?” Padme asked, when the last traces of static had faded.

He grinned at her, a cocky, crooked grin that somehow seemed hollow in the tunnel’s flickering lights. “Of course I do.” He drew his saber again, and offered Padme his free hand.

She hesitated for a split second.

 _Just as a guide,_ she told herself. _And just to be sure we stick together._

She nodded once, and accepted. “Let’s go.”


	5. Chapter 5

It had been nearly three weeks since the last time Padme had seen Anakin, and she was grateful for the reprieve. Really, she was. It didn’t matter if she’d thought about him every day, at least with him not physically _there,_ it was so much easier to pretend he didn’t--pretend he was nothing more than a colleague, one of the many Jedi Generals she knew and respected.

The fact that Rush was here on Coruscant for the week just added more reasons to be grateful. Nothing had happened between her and Anakin, and nothing _would,_ but...she couldn’t help but remember the way Sola had looked at her, back when they’d visited her home; maybe Rush wouldn’t notice the attraction but it was better not to risk it. _Much_ better.

She wondered where Anakin was now, as she stepped into one of the lifts heading down to the rotunda--she and Bail and Mon were going to meet to strategize over a key vote, one that had been pushed up for reasons she didn’t yet know but _would_ find out.

But as for Anakin...he was out fighting, she was pretty sure of that. Somewhere in the Outer Rim, maybe. Or possibly contested space in the Mid Rim. There had been a major offensive on Ryloth, recently. She thought she’d heard about Obi-Wan being involved in that, and where one of those two went, the other was almost certain to be found.

She hoped he was-- _they_ were--all right. Anakin, and Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka, too.

The elevator stopped three floors down from her office; she stepped aside to make room for whatever being (and entourage) she’d be sharing the rest of her ride with as the doors slid open.

Her breath caught in her throat.

 _Anakin_ was standing on the other side of the doors.

He froze and stared at her for a moment, then caught himself and bowed politely. “Senator,” he said.

“General,” she said, returning the gesture.

He hesitated for a moment, then took a breath and joined her in the lift.

Four square meters had never seemed so small, or so large, as it did when the lift began to move again.

The silence was unbearable.

“I didn’t know you were on Coruscant,” she said. _Let alone_ here, _in the_ Senate building, _where I might run into you unexpectedly._

“I had a meeting with the Chancellor,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “Are you here long?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been given a two-week meditation retreat,” he said. His eyes flickered back to her, then he flushed and took a breath. “I’m not sure how I’m going to spend it yet.”

“I guess it’s hard to find somewhere peaceful these days.”

“Yes,” he said. “But hopefully not for much longer.”

“We all hope that.”

He nodded, and pulled his hands up into his sleeves. He had a habit of doing that, she’d noticed, when he felt anxious or guilty, and her heart went out to him.

She opened her mouth to say something, possibly something she’d regret, but he cut her off.

“I’m...I’m glad to see you’ve recovered so well,” he said. “From the virus.”

Right. Yes. That had been--frankly terrifying, though she'd managed not to feel it for herself until she was clear. But she didn’t think she’d ever forget the frantic note to Anakin's voice when she’d told him she’d been exposed; or the way he’d looked at her, for just a moment, after she and Ahsoka and Rex and the others had been extracted from Vindi’s lab.

“I’m doing very well, thank you,” she said. “Thanks _to_ you.”

He nodded. “It was my duty, milady,” he said.

“Still.”

He hesitated, then turned to her, almost as if--

The lift jolted, knocking her off balance, and she stumbled, falling forward. He caught her, as if by reflex, and for a split second their faces were only centimeters away.

“Are you okay?” he asked, when it resumed its smooth descent, as if it had never wavered in the first place.

She nodded. “The. Um. There’s been a request in to fix this bank of lifts for a week. They’ve been glitching. Guess it’s our lucky day.”

He jumped a little, letting go of her and stepping back. “Lucky day. Right. Yes.”

She flushed, realizing how that must have sounded. “Well, it could have been worse.”

“True,” he said. “True, it could have--been worse.”

Five increasingly awkward seconds later, the lift came to a silent stop and the doors slid open.

“...right,” he said, clearing his throat and taking a step away. “This is...this is me.” He bowed. “May the Force be with you, Senator.”

“You, too,” she said; then spotted something metal lying on the ground. She frowned, and bent to pick it up. It almost looked like--

_Oh, kriff._

“Wait, General, you dropped your--”

With a faint _snick,_ the doors slid shut, cutting her off.

She sighed, studying the lightsaber in her hands. It was heavier than it looked, heavier than she’d expected it to be.

_I’ll have to find him later, give it back._

And, for all it _had_ been kind of nice, having some space to get her thoughts in order; for all it was _smarter_ to stay apart, she would be lying if she said it wasn’t even _nicer_ to have an excuse to see him again. Even if it shouldn’t be.

Which was probably why she was smiling faintly when the lift reached the rotunda and slid open--

\--to reveal a dozen or so of her colleagues, held at gunpoint by a team of bounty hunters led by Cad Bane.

* * *

From that point, it was almost as if everything that _could_ go wrong, _did_ go wrong.

Of course, Padme’s arrival didn’t go unnoticed, and she was unceremoniously dragged into the crowd of her colleagues. Bane’s associate didn’t go _quite_ as far as to actually hit her with the butt of his rifle, but it was a close thing.

And then Senator Philo tested Bane’s resolve, only to get shot in the back for his troubles.

Bane had then contacted Palpatine with his demands, which of course the Chancellor refused--as Padme herself would have, back in Theed, if a handful of Assembly members had been taken hostage--but it didn't exactly make the situation any better for the hostages in question.

The building went into complete lockdown.

Anakin’s lightsaber felt heavier and heavier in the pocket where she’d hastily stashed it, as the rest of the captive Senators were searched for comms and weapons. She had just settled on Bail Organa as the best person to pass it to when Anakin’s presence in the building was discovered, and Bane decided searching for _him_ was more important than making sure his captives didn’t have any tricks up their sleeves.

Of course, that still meant Anakin was taking on this well-coordinated assault _completely unarmed,_ but at least his lightsaber wasn’t in enemy hands.

Not that _that_ did him any good; an eternal half-hour later, Anakin was dragged, unconscious, into the rotunda and thrown almost exactly at Padme’s feet.

For a split second, she forgot herself. “Anakin!” She knelt next to him, searching for a pulse, trying to see how badly he was injured.

Pulse was easy to find, and steady. Breathing, too, that was steady. There was no blood, no obvious blaster burns or broken bones. He hadn’t lost any more limbs.

_Okay. Okay, okay, he’ll be fine, he’s fine, everything’s fine…_

She barely even noticed the bounty hunters setting the bombs around them, and then, in the first _genuine_ silver lining she’d seen since this whole thing began, Anakin stirred.

He blinked, then sat up abruptly upon finding his head in her lap; she was pretty sure he was blushing.

“You were unconscious,” she said. “I had to see if--um.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Right,” she said. “You, um. Dropped this. In the lift, earlier.” She pressed his lightsaber into his hands.

“Oh, good,” he said. He stood up, took a quick look around the room, then nodded once, decisively. “Everyone, stay close to me, and get ready to drop.”

“Drop?” another Senator asked, puzzled. “Wait, what does he mean by-- _drooooooop!”_

* * *

Upon landing in the Senate basement, they were quickly joined by a security team and a handful of medics, to debrief the hostages and make sure they were all right.

Padme just kept one eye on Anakin, who was in deep discussion with one of the guards--Jumpshot, she was pretty sure his name was--while patiently reassuring one of the medics that she hadn’t been harmed.

“Padme!” Rush pushed past the line of security and wrapped her up tightly in his arms. “Oh, dearest, I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“I’m fine, Rush,” she said, returning the hug and accepting a kiss as well. “Really, I am.”

She couldn’t help but compare the feeling of Rush’s arms around her with how Anakin’s had felt, when he’d caught her in the lift earlier.

How was it that her _husband’s_ embrace was the one that felt awkward? Almost...wrong?

“Senator?” As if summoned by her thoughts, Anakin had, apparently, finished up his discussion and come over to speak to her.

“General Skywalker,” she said. “You’re all right, the medics checked you out?”

He waved a hand. “I’m fine, they worry too much. I just...wanted to thank you again, for your help up there.”

“Of course,” she said; and then remembered who she was standing with. “I’m not sure if you’ve met my husband--Rush Clovis, the Senator from Scipio. Rush, this is General Anakin Skywalker, he saved us all today.”

“General,” Rush said. Padme thought she was imagining it-- _hoped_ she was imagining it--but it seemed that his voice turned a few degrees cooler; his arm around her shoulders gripped just a little bit tighter. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help. The thought of losing Padme is--well.”

Anakin’s face went blanker than she had ever seen it. Blanker than she would have thought possible, given how expressive it usually was.

“Sir,” he said, with a bow. He avoided looking at Padme. “I should--get back to the Temple. They’ll want my report on this incident, now that I’m finished here.”

“Yes, of course,” Rush said. “Thank you again.”

Another clipped bow, and then he turned and strode away, maybe just a hair faster than was really necessary, cloak swirling around his ankles.

Rush sighed, and relaxed a little. “You two seem like you know one another fairly well,” he said.

Padme shot a look at him. “We met when we were children,” she said. “He’s the one who blew up the droid control ship, didn’t I tell you?”

“Ah, of course, I remember now,” he said, then kissed her hand. “My apologies, dearest. Of course you consider him a friend.”

“I...yes,” she said. “He’s a friend.”

“We could all use more of those,” he said. “But for now--I think I should take you back to the apartment, if you’re done here? We can order in, spend a quiet evening…”

Against her will, she imagined Anakin in his place, and wished--

“That sounds lovely,” she said, kissing his cheek to cover herself. “I haven’t had vedkt noodles in ages.”

“My brave, predictable Queen,” he said, laughing and kissing her full on the mouth. “You may have all the vedkt noodles you could possibly want.”

“You know just how to spoil me,” she said, and followed him out of the rotunda.

And if she looked back--once--to try and spot Anakin…

He was already gone.

Which was, really, for the best.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been almost exactly a year since the First Battle of Geonosis, and just over three months since the hostage crisis in the Senate, when Padme and Anakin came face to face once again.

It wasn’t anything anyone had planned--somewhere, someone’s wires must have gotten crossed. Padme had come to the Lix’shena system on a mercy mission, to provide food and medical supplies and assess the population’s needs as they began to rebuild after their home had become a battleground.

Unfortunately, no one had told her or her staff that the battle wasn’t yet _over._

Anakin’s presence, in fact, was her first clue that something was wrong.

He blinked when he saw her, visibly surprised. “Senator? What the h--what are you doing here?”

“Mercy mission,” she said. “Food, medical, infrastructure--what are _you_ doing here?”

“Securing the planet,” he said. “...kriff. This is bad. Look, you and your people need to get back on your ship and clear out, it’ll be at _least_ another two or three days before it’ll be safe enough for you to complete your mission.”

“Right, I understand.” As much as she wanted to help the Lix’ash people, she wouldn’t do anyone any good if she got herself killed by being in a warzone where she wasn’t actually _needed._ She’d learned that on the _Malevolence._ “But before I go--is there anything you and your men need?” she said. “I can talk with central command, shuffle the right paperwork to make sure the Lix’ash get what they were promised, but, I mean...I’m here, my ship is fully loaded...”

“That would be-- _extremely_ helpful,” he admitted. “We’re all right for rations, last I checked, but I know Kix was just telling me we were short on--”

“INCOMING!”

She had barely registered the clone officer’s warning when she heard the missile screaming through the air, and then she felt Anakin crash into her, wrapping his arms around her as he dove for cover; her back hit a wall; she _heard,_ rather than felt, debris raining around them; either Anakin had found _good_ cover or maybe he was holding the rubble back with the Force, and then--

And then--

Just like at Varykino, just like on the _Malevolence,_ the flames from the explosion, through gaps in the debris, cast shadows across his face, outlining his cheekbones, his jawline, his summer-blue eyes barely visible in the dark.

Just like on the _Malevolence,_ just like in the lift at the Senate, their faces were mere centimeters apart, his arms warm and solid around her.

She had no idea which of them moved first, but the next thing she knew, their mouths met; his lips soft and warm and yielding against hers, and…

 _Hells,_ she had never felt anything like it. Not with Rush, not with Palo, not with Sabe, not with _anyone._

This, _this,_ was what a kiss was supposed to feel like. To _taste_ like. Like sunshine and stormclouds, war and peace, love and desperation and passion, honey and spice spilling across her tongue in perfect harmony; it felt like it could last forever and she would never _need,_ much less want, to breathe again.

It _was_ Anakin, she was sure, who pulled away.

There was horror and guilt and grief on his face, and he opened his mouth to apologize, and all she could think was-- _this felt right._ Kissing Anakin felt as right as kissing _Rush_ was wrong.

She reached up, grabbed his collar, and pulled him back in for another kiss.

He froze for a second, startled, then relaxed into it, opening his mouth for her to explore; leaning into her, arms pressed tight against her back and maybe it should have been uncomfortable, especially the metal of the mech digging into her ribs, but it just felt-- _magical._

There was no other word for it.

An eternity later, and she actually _did_ need to come up for air, poetry and desire aside.

“I…” Anakin said. “I don’t...I thought...P-Padme?”

“I love you,” she said. The words fell--so _easily_ from her mouth, here in the rubble from a missile strike she should have been _lightyears_ away from.

They had never come so easily to her before. Not for _anyone._

But for Anakin--for _Anakin…_

“You...you love me?” he asked. He sounded so bewildered and hopeful that it made her want to cry, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was so sorry for spending all this time hurting him, or because she was so glad to be saying it now. To let him hear it now.

“I love you,” she repeated. “I’ve tried...I’ve spent so long trying to pretend I didn’t, but you...you...you’re so kind, and brave, and _beautiful,_ and every time I see you...every time we meet, it gets harder, and I’m _sick_ of pretending.” She took a breath. “I truly, deeply love you, and I...whatever...whatever happens next, I...I _needed_ you to know.”

“You love me,” he repeated. “But--but your husband--”

“Let me worry about Rush,” she cut him off. _Later, tomorrow--I’ll decide what to do. I still don’t want to hurt him, and I know the politics are a problem because we_ need _the Banking Clan, but…_

But this felt too _right._ Anakin felt too perfect in her arms.

He searched her face for a moment, then nodded. “You love me,” he said, for the third time, and then broke out into the sweetest smile she had ever seen.

“I love you,” she agreed.

He laughed, and bent to kiss her again; sweet and soft and as gentle as the last had been intense.

Reality would find them soon enough, and she didn’t know what she would do. What they would do. Because there was Rush to think about, and her career, and _his,_ and the clones and Ahsoka who would dig them out of the rubble any time now--

But right now, at long last, he was _hers._ For this moment, however short it might be, that was enough.

She smiled against his mouth, twined her arms around his neck, and finally, after a _year_ of denial, let that electric current sweep her up and carry her away into a future she could hardly begin to imagine.

She only knew that, just like him, just like his kiss, it would be spicy-sweet--and beautiful.


End file.
